


The Rot

by writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)



Series: Convenient Group of Femslash Fics [13]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9402230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle
Summary: The rot doesn’t want to know she isn’t alone.Doesn’t want to think of other people in pain.Aaron is poking at the rot with a stick because it is the only way he knows how to tell it that it is unwelcome.The knowledge that he is trying to help does not make it stop hurting.





	

Maybe-

Just maybe-

If Maria could get out of this bed she could take a shower hot enough to wash away the gunk inside of her veins. Or tilt her head back and swallow enough water to flush her system. Or get into the kitchen so that she can drink enough to distort the voices telling her that there is no point. That this is all she will ever be, a stain.

A stain on the bed. A stain on her relationship. A disaster of a woman. Vaguely, but only vaguely, Maria is aware that she doesn’t always feel this way. 

That sometimes she doesn’t call out from work for days at a time. Sometimes she takes showers, real showers, not the pathetic attempts at wiping away the grime with baby wipes that she’s done for the past two days.

Wouldn’t have done at all if Eliza hadn’t started the process. Hadn’t of wiped down her arms and legs before handing her a new one to get the rest because no- no, even Eliza couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see the rot.

Vaguely, but only vaguely, Maria is aware of the creek- of the sound of the door opening. Stares blankly at the ceiling rather than acknowledging the footsteps.

Maybe if she doesn’t move they won’t see her.

Maybe if they see her, but she doesn’t move, they will assume she is sleeping and leave her to decompose.

Maybe-

“Eliza needed to do something-” It’s Aaron and Maria cringes, hates that he can see her at all, hates that he is here to witness this. Hates that her girlfriend felt the need to get her a babysitter. Can’t trust her to be alone despite the fact that Maria barely moves. “I think it’s time to get up.”

He isn’t wrong.

That doesn’t mean she agrees.

Shakes her head because the words won’t come because she hasn’t spoken in days and her throat is filled with rocks. It is the only thing keeping the bile from coming up. She can picture it in her mind, all foaming white and green. 

“I’m going to open the curtains.”

Aaron waits for no response. Doesn’t seem to care that Maria’s skin has molded to the bed. Doesn’t seem to care that she weighs three tons, much too heavy for her bones to pick off the sheets.

The sun hurts. It is white and bright and if she could roll over, she would.

But she can’t.

Doesn’t even have the energy for a full sob when Aaron tugs the blanket away from her body. The half sob doesn’t deter him, either. She can’t bare to look at his face but she knows there is no sympathy there. Aaron is no good for that.

Vaguely, but only vaguely, Maria is aware that he too is filled with tar on days. It seems so strange now to think of that. To remember the days when he is more marionette than man. 

Right now he is flesh and blood. Hands warm as they hook under her arms, pulling her to sit up in bed. Ignoring the way she whines.

No time for pity or sympathy.

Aaron doesn’t bother with the baby wipes. Disappears and comes back with a rag soaked in cool water and a hair tie to pull the rat’s nest on her head back. The room is silent as he wipes at her face and she stares at the wall now, still unable to look at him.

Again he disappears. 

There’s no room in her body for embarrassment when he reappears with a full set of clothing for her. A loose t-shirt, the shorts she wears to the gym and a pair of underwear. Maria knows she would usually be upset at this invasion, but is it any worse than being moved like a doll?

“Get dressed, please,” Aaron’s voice is soft. “I’m going to go start something for lunch. I’ll knock before coming back in.”

There is no threat of what he will do if she isn’t changed when he returns. Somehow this makes it easier. Provides at least a small amount of balm to her wounds.

Maria stares at her hands as they slip under first one thigh and then the other, lifting them up so that they hang over the edge of the bed. The idea of standing makes her feel as if she is made of sand but things are already in motion.

Aaron is probably in the kitchen by now. He is probably looking through their fridge. Their well-stocked fridge. Because Eliza is still a person, because Eliza can still go to the grocery store. 

Mechanically Maria removes each piece of her clothing, uses the rag to rub at her skin before dropping it on her used clothing.

Sits naked for far longer than she should before reaching over to pull each new piece on. Tries to minimize the time she has to stand. A consolation for the fact that she must then stoop down to gather the clothes and rag and drop them in the laundry basket in the bathroom.

There she stares at the black cloth where their mirror should be.

Funny how she hasn’t noticed it before.

Wonders whose benefit it is for. If this is a sign Eliza isn’t doing well either or merely an attempted kindness.

Maria considers her toothbrush for a moment, allows the counter to support her weight as she does. It would be a good idea. She managed yesterday but yesterday is not today.

Today is not a day for brushing her teeth, though.

Aware that Aaron will be back soon she sits to empty her bladder, eyes trained on the shower.

Eyes trained back on the black fabric again as she washes her hands. On a whim, Maria reaches for the mouthwash. Swishes it around before spitting it in the sink. Does it a second time, vaguely, but only vaguely, pleased with the way it looks like she is removing the bile.

A knock drags her back to the bedroom, to open the door. Aaron’s arm slips around her waist as he encourages her to join him in the living room.

All the lights are off but the windows are open, letting the natural light fill the room.

At least it is softer here than in the bedroom.

At least he does not sit her directly in front of the glass, allows her body to drop into the armchair closest to the kitchen.

“I made hot chocolate,” Aaron tells her as he walks away. “The good stuff not that powdered mess Eliza is so fond of. How a woman can grow up with so much money-”

Aaron is still talking but-

It’s meaningless. She doesn’t have the energy to listen if she doesn’t have to.

But at least the mug is warm.

“There’s sandwiches when you’re ready.” No, Aaron is not made of sympathy, but he is filled with quiet knowledge of how to make feet move. Vaguely, but only vaguely, Maria is aware she should appreciate that. “I’m baking lemon cookies for Eliza. I haven’t bothered to buy one of those fancy mixers myself, but they’re pretty nice. Might be worth it.”

They are. Maria liked to make bread.

Likes to make bread?

She isn’t sure. She doesn’t feel like she likes anything right now. 

“You’re lucky, you know-”

The statement stings because nothing feels good about this. She doesn’t feel lucky at all right now. There is nothing lucky about how brittle her bones are or how heavy with gunk her veins are. How impossible it feels to support her own body-

“Eliza’s a good woman.”

She is. And she deserves more than Maria and her moods. Deserves a girlfriend who knows how to laugh. Who dances with her in the living room and bakes her favorite lemon cookies. Vaguely, but only vaguely, Maria is aware that she is that girlfriend at times. But it does not matter what she has been if she cannot be it again and right now that version of her feels so far away.

There’s a far away look on Aaron’s face as he stares out the window, and that, that should have been her warning.

“I hadn’t left the bathroom for two days before Alex came by that last time.”

If Eliza were here, she would tell Aaron to stop. That it wasn’t the time. Eliza is careful like that.

Suddenly the bile in her stomach feels heavier, much more real. Especially when Aaron continues. “He wasn’t even coming to check on me. He wanted to complain about Jefferson.”

Aaron all alone in his empty apartment. Aaron with his curtains drawn, body curled against tile. Without someone to wash his arms and legs. Without someone to bring him food or kiss his forehead.

Aaron who came over when Eliza called.

She’s been there. She’s been alone. There’s been no food in the fridge. She’s existed off of water and ramen for weeks before. Dragged herself to work because she had to or else she’d end up in the shelter again. Existed in a lump the rest of the time, cried in the break room.

But she doesn’t have to do that anymore. Angelica is understanding. Angelica doesn’t mind hiring temp workers or paying overtime for those that pick up her slack. Eliza makes sure she doesn’t sleep on the floor. That there’s food in her stomach.

She hadn’t thought it could hurt more, but the idea of Aaron in that same place-

Heavy turns to hollow turns to ache.

Maria tries to say something. Tries to force an apology out of her body. Out of her throat but the rocks have been crushed. There is barely room for air.

All that comes out is sobs and Aaron blinks, turning to look at her. Awkwardly moves to squat next to the chair, petting her arm. “It’s okay to cry.”

It isn’t. It isn’t okay. She needs to get up. She needs to do something that isn’t this.

The oven buzzes and Aaron squeezes her hand, promising that he’ll be back once he’s pulled the cookies from the oven.

The cookies.

Maria tries to take a deep breath, trying to smell them but there is too much gook, too much snot. Blindly she stumbles from the chair to grab the tissues off of the table. Stays there, on her knees beside it, wiping at her eyes and nose, trying to make it stop.

But the tears keep coming. The gunk keeps coming.

Has she been filled with water this whole time?

“Maybe,” Aaron says as he returns, hovering just behind her. “Maybe you’d like to go outside. You have a nice tree in the yard for shade, and I can fetch a blanket for you to lay on.”

The blanket ends up being the comforter from the guest bedroom, and he even drags the pillows out so that she can be propped up as she picks at the sandwich he made her.

“Depression feeds on hunger.” Next to her, Aaron is laying down, one pillow behind his head as he stares at the leaves. “Anything that makes the body weak. It feeds on darkness too. On silence.”

Maria knows.

But Maria can’t make herself do anything about that. Her throat has not opened, it barely takes in the bits of bread and meat she forces in her mouth.

“Eliza’s going to be home soon,” Aaron adds after a while. Whether he knows this by some internal clock or a message on his phone, Maria isn’t sure. “I’m going to stay a little longer. Help with some meal prep, maybe.”

Meal prep. Because usually cooking is Maria’s job.

“Shush.” Aaron rolls on his side to look at her and Maria forces herself to look back. “I can hear you thinking. It’ll help. Things you can just stick in the crock pot and let cook over the day. You don’t have to do much. But you have to start doing something. If not this will eat you alive.”

It feels like it already has.

“I’ve been here, you know?” It doesn’t sting when he says it like that, but she knows it will later. Still, she says nothing. “I’ve been here. Alex sometimes doesn’t sleep for weeks, won’t stop, can’t stop because if he does- his own thoughts will get him. I’ve seen Eliza clean things until her hands were raw from the chemicals. Angelica pretends she doesn’t have a sad bone in her body, but sometimes, her teeth and tongue are so sharp it can only be to hide the softness in her ribcage.”

The rot doesn’t want to know she isn’t alone.

Doesn’t want to think of other people in pain.

Aaron is poking at the rot with a stick because it is the only way he knows how to tell it that it is unwelcome. 

The knowledge that he is trying to help does not make it stop hurting.

Maria picks at the fabric beneath her. Drags words out of herself with fish hooks. “I’m sorry-”

It is the only thing she’s able to say before he leaves.

The only thing before Eliza joins her on the comforter instead, nibbling on one of the cookies that Aaron made her. “These are pretty good, would you like to try one?”

Maria wants to say no. That she has already eaten. But Eliza looks so hopeful she can do nothing but extend her hand to accept the treat.

Uses the fish hooks to drag her lips into a smile after taking a bite. Touches her chin with the tips of her fingers before moving her hand outward, the closest she can get to saying thank you at the moment.

It is a motion Eliza recognizes well, and it is worth every bit of energy for the smile it produces. A real smile, unlike the mimicry that Maria is attempting.

“Angelica says hello, by the way,” Eliza says. “The temp they’ve got in there is this sweet girl, Marty Manning? Apparently, John recommended her.”

Maria nods, unsure of what she is supposed to say. She’s glad Angelica isn’t scrambling to fill her shoes. She’s glad that the new girl is nice.

She worries that they won’t need her anymore. 

Vaguely, but only vaguely, she is aware that this has never happened before. That Angelica has had many temps but has never asked Maria to not come back. But this is the longest Maria has been out without warning. There is always the risk that this will be the last straw

“Ang said if she’s interested, she might keep her even once you come back-”

Maria’s eyebrows burrow, unsure of what to say. 

“She’s bilingual, just like you-” Eliza continues. “So Angelica is thinking about using you two to translate some of the materials around the office. You should like her.”

Maria isn’t ready to think about that, even if she appreciates the reassurance that she hasn’t lost her place.

“She offered to bring some stuff by if you’d like-” Eliza looks so hopeful, like the fact that Maria has gotten out of bed means this is over- “Small things. That way you can work from home even if you aren’t ready to make it to the office yet.”

Aaron’s voice comes unbidden, reminding her that she has to move. Even if it isn’t much, she has to do something.

So Maria nods.

Wonders if she’s filling Eliza with false hope when Eliza claps her hands together and says that she’s so glad.

But she wants more of that. Wants Eliza to be happy with her instead of pitying her. Wants to be able to contribute to this relationship again.

So she uses the fish hooks again, digs deep in her chest to find more words. “I thought- shower? Us?”

It’s barely intelligible, and it takes Eliza a moment to follow her train of thought. But when she does, Eliza winks. “Why, Ms. Lewis, are you propositioning me?”

Before Maria can try and find it in her to say no, no, she isn’t ready for that- Eliza laughs, standing up and reaching out a hand to help Maria up. “I’m being silly, Love. No funny business tonight, I promise.”

Eliza keeps her promise, too. Doesn’t complain when Maria steps into the shower with her underwear still on. Doesn’t try and touch Maria anywhere that wouldn’t be allowed at a high school dance.

But she does help wash Maria’s hair. Untangles the knots with gentle fingers, careful not to pull too much.

The water is warm, but not hot enough to sear at her skin, and still- Maria imagines she can feel some of the gunk breaking off. That it’s being pulled from her pores as she watches Eliza run the washcloth over her own skin. 

When the water finally turns off, Eliza leaves her with her clothes in the bathroom, giving her privacy even though she shouldn’t have to.

Eliza smiles again when she sees her. “I’m going to put the sheets in the wash if that’s alright with you? Maybe read in the living room while they’re in there. You could join me?”

It means Maria can’t climb back in bed for a few hours and still, she nods. Wanders to the living room, trying to remind herself that this is good even if it is exhausting.

That laying in bed is exhausting too.

That this is fighting the rot.

After a while, Eliza settles on the other side of the couch, book in hand and Maria licks her lips. There’s no way she can focus on reading, the television would distract Eliza and at the same time- at the same time Maria knows she can’t be left with her thoughts. Which leaves her with one option.

This time she doesn’t need the fish hooks, even if the words still take a moment to come. “Read to me?”

Eliza doesn’t miss a beat. Just picks up at the start of the next sentence.

It isn’t the beginning of the story, Maria has no idea who the characters are. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re here. Together.


End file.
